


Marked for a Game

by for_t2



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Blood, F/F, Forests, Hopeful Ending, Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Screw Destiny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25291078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: Getting reaped means having your soulmark shown to all of Panem before being slaughtered. Until the day a girl on fire stepped into the arena. Until the day she made the world burn
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Johanna Mason
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77





	Marked for a Game

“So, Peeta, tell us: do you have anyone special waiting for you at home?”

“I… I do. But she’s not at home. She’s here. With me.”

In the darkness of the backstage, Katniss flinched as the crowd oohed. She wasn’t… She didn’t… She didn’t know what the hell Peeta was playing at, but she was sure it wouldn’t end well.

“Well, come on then, don’t be shy, show it to us! And remember, no peeking!”

Katniss’s hand scratched the sheath around her left wrist as the crowd laughed and cheered. As Peeta unveiled the one that had been around his wrist since the moment his name was picked, chemicals seeping into his skin to accelerate the soulmark metabolism, on the stage ahead of her. As he showed it off to all of Panem.

Every tribute should have the chance to know their soulmate, to be able to fight for them, the propos said. Every one.

But Katniss wasn’t meant to have been a tribute.

And maybe that meant she wasn’t meant to know. Not yet, not before she turned 18. If she ever did. If… Maybe she didn’t want to know.

The Hunger Games, after all, were no place for love.

* 

“So…” Flickerman leant forward with his most conspiratorial tone of voice. “Peeta, eh?”

“Uh, yes.” Katniss tried to pretend. Tried to put on a smile, bat her eyelashes, tried to be the girl in love. She just hoped she was convincing enough. “Yes.” The way the crowd roared made her think she was.

“Tell us: any little secrets from District 12? He doesn’t hog the blankets I hope.”

“I think I’m the one who hogs the blankets.” It was easier to laugh with Flickerman. Easier to hide when he too focused on the sound of his own voice. “But sometimes,” she hoped the next smile she gave was shy enough, real enough. “He’s a baker, you know. And sometimes he tries to experiment, and, well… I definitely hog the blankets on those days.”

“He sounds absolutely perfect.” The crowd roared even louder. “I hope you two lovebirds are able to make the most out of your stay in the Capitol.”

As he helped her to her feet, as he helped her bow to the crowd, Katniss noticed he didn’t ask about her mark.

He didn’t ask to see it.

Didn’t ask her to show it.

* 

“Of course he didn’t.” Haymitch muttered between sips of whiskey. “You’re not in love with him, are you?”

“I…” Katniss stared down at the couch which probably cost more than a month’s wages for her entire district.

“You can’t lie to everyone.”

Katniss shook her head. Curled up a little more in her sweater. “I’m not.”

“Exactly.” Haymitch pushed a glass towards her. “So what do you think happens if he isn’t your soulmate?”

*

The nightlock berries might’ve been light, but in Katniss’s palm, they felt like the heaviest thing in the world. “Together?”

“Together.” Peeta’s hands were shaking just enough for her to know that he felt the weight too. That he was just as ready as she was for the Games to be over. For everything to be over. “Three.”

And as they both raised the berries to theirs mouths, as their eyes met one last time, Katness felt it for the first time. The warmth. The hope. The possibility of a future, together. For the first she felt as if, maybe, just maybe, Peeta could be the one.

“Two.”

Her mouth opened, half ready to eat the berries, half ready to tell him she loved him. That he-- 

Click.

They both froze as Katniss’s sheath clicked. As it opened. As it fell to the ground.

“Your mark.” Peeta dropped the berries as he took a staggering step backwards. As he held up his shaking wrist. “Your mark.”

Katniss only needed to take one glance at hers to see that it was different. “Peeta—”

“Your mark.” He took another step backwards. “They—”

The second Katniss saw the fear in her eyes reflecting in his, the tremor of his voice turning, the twitch of his hand towards his belt, her instincts took over. Made her move.

He barely had the chance to breath before her arrow pierced his heart.

* 

At least now it was easier to understand why Haymitch liked alcohol so much. It didn’t taste good and it burned her throat and stomach, but at least it helped her stop for a few hours.

“Well, if it isn’t the girl on fire.” A scarred hand grabbed Katniss’s glass just after she had finished refilling it. Downed Katniss’s drink. “How did it feel when you stabbed your lover?”

“Fuck off.” Katniss had no idea who she was, and she didn’t want to know. In fact, she rather wanted to punch her.

“No, come on.” The girl, all short, messy hair and sharp, rough angles followed her. “There’s no secrets between victors.

“Fuck off.” Katniss tried to grab her glass back. Unfortunately, the girl was just a little less drunk a little bit quicker. “And give me my drink back.”

“You see those dicks over there?” The girl nodded to a gaggle of obscenely rich looking businessmen (if Katniss’s vague sense of the latest in Capitol fashion was anything to go by) who were leering at anything and everything that moved. “They like it. Our trama. They think it makes things exciting.”

“Just give me my—”

“Do you know how much they offered me to convince to be exciting with them?” The gesture the girl made out of their sight wasn’t one Katniss recognised, but it seemed even more obscene. “I need this drink more than you do.”

“Well it’s my—”

“Hey.” Haymitch stepped between them. Plucked the glass out of the girl’s hand. “Give the lady back her drink, Johanna.”

“Victors aren’t ladies, drunkard.”

“Come on.” Haymitch pushed the girl – Johanna – aside, and lead Katniss away. He didn’t give her her drink back though. “Stop turning into me.”

“But—”

“Ah.” Haymitch held up a hand to silence Katniss before she could say anything. Found a glass of his own and chugged it down. “Believe or not, you actually inspired some people. So do better.”

Katniss pouted, but she was still too drunk to put up a fight. “She’s a victor?”

“Huh?” Haymitch plucked a grape off a plate. “Oh, her. Johanna Mason. Winner of the 71st Hunger Games and all-around asshole.”

“What happened to her hand?” It was the type of scar that somehow, even the medical technology of the Capitol couldn’t cure. The type of scar that had to be almost deliberate. And ever since she started getting near to the age where she could be reaped, where Prim could be reaped, Katniss had stopped watching the Games. And she wasn’t planning on watching the next one, either.

“That was her act.” Haymitch almost seemed impressed. “Play the naïve, innocent little girl, and then once their backs are turned, hack them down with an axe enough there’s nothing life than guts and blood. She’s very charming.”

Charming. Right. Katniss could see that.

“It’s why they make you wear those.” Haymitch taped his wrist. His soulmark. “Her mark disappeared before her interview in a clumsy accident.”

Accident.

Now that was a good idea.

*

Katniss used to love the forests outside District 12. They were safe and alive and free and they were hers. But now, as the snowflakes drifted down around her, between her and Gale, she wasn’t sure she could remember love.

“Are you sure?”

“Sorry.” As much as a tear was streaming down his face, Katniss wasn’t sure she could remember how to cry either. And he genuinely did seem torn. “After Peeta, I hoped it would be us.”

Katniss didn’t know how to reply. Words were yet another thing she couldn’t remember these days, just the hollowing, empty echo of silence. “There’s no one?”

“Not…” He pulled a photo out of his jacket. Of him smiling with a girl Katniss vaguely recognised. With matching soulmarks on their wrists. “None with yours.”

*

“On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that every Capitol citizen they killed was someone who loved, the male and female tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors. From the ones who have yet to lose their soulmate.”

No.

Katniss’s throat seized the second Snow said the words.

No.

She couldn’t go back.

She couldn’t.

*

“Well, well, well.” One of the re-selected tributes from District smirked as she stepped into the elevator with Katniss. “We meet again.”

“Do I know you?” Katniss didn’t watch the interviews. Every second she had to spend up on that stage under Flickerman’s slimy smile was too much already.

The tribute snorted. “Don’t remember me? I’m hurt.” Got right up into Katniss’s personal space. “Call me Jo.”

“Back off.”

Jo caught Katniss’s arm before she could shove her away. “You don’t want to…” Blinked. Bare-sleeved, Katniss’s mark matched the colour of her dress. “Typical.”

“You’ve seen it?” Katniss didn’t like the way her heartbeat picked up at that. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want there to be a chance.

Johanna snorted. “What’s in it for me?”

“I—”

The elevator door dinged open before Katniss could reply. “You’ll never meet your soulmate like this, brainless.” Johanna’s smirk turn something close to sadistic. “Dark and brooding really isn’t as attractive as you think it is. Learn to have some fun.”

Johanna took a step out of the elevator.

And another right out of her dress.

* 

Katniss couldn’t find the strength to throw up anymore. The night was barely half-over, barely halfway to tomorrow, to the start of another arena, and all she could do was sit. Stand. Sit. Stand. Sit. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t sleep, she could just stand. Sit. Stand. Sit. St-- 

“Hey.”

Punch.

“Good to see you’ve been training.”

“Oh god, Haymitch.” Katniss hurried to help him off the ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve had worse.” He flopped down onto the couch. “Couldn’t sleep either, eh?”

Katniss shook her head. She knew that she needed sleep before tomorrow, that this would be her last chance to sleep in a proper bed for… maybe forever, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

“I’m not looking forward to going back either.” Sober for the first time in years, Katniss was able to see just how haunted his eyes were. Maybe even more that hers. “But I need you to promise me something.”

Katniss didn’t think she could. “What?”

“Promise me you’ll survive.” Haymitch was deadly serious. “Some of us are going to get hurt, some of us are going to die, but you, you need to survive.”

“Haymitch—”

“No matter what.” Deadly, deadly serious. “Promise me.”

She couldn’t fight. “I promise.” Even if it meant lying. Again.

*

“Down!” Katniss’s breath flew out of her as Johanna shoved her hard into the tree roots.

“Jo—”

“Shut up, brainless.” Johanna spat under her breath as she clamped a hand around her mouth. Pinned her down as the District 1 tributes ran towards them.

Plunged her axe into Katniss.

Clamped her hand around her neck. “And stay down.”

By the time Katniss woke back up, blood streaming down her wrist, Johanna was long gone.

* 

The problem with dying is that you lose track of time. You even lose track of the fact that you’re dying.

At least, Katniss was pretty sure she had died.

At some point.

Johanna had hacked into her. The arena, the world exploded in fire. She was floating. People were sticking needles into her. It hurt. She hurt. She…

She was dying.

“You awake?”

She wasn’t dying.

“Fucking finally.” Johanna, head shaved bald, and muscles almost wasted away, jumped up onto the bed. Pushed Katniss around until there was enough space to sit down next to her. “Haymitch was worried about you.”

“I…” Katniss’s throat hurt. “You’re alive?”

“No fuck.” Johanna grabbed the cup of water sitting on the table. Took a sip before offering it to Katniss. “Everything feels like shit.”

Katniss waited for the cool water to trickle through her lips before she pushed herself slightly more upright. “You stabbed me.”

Johanna laughed wildly. “Your hopeless romantic act was getting boring.” She picked up Katniss’s hand. Showed off the new scar on her wrist. The scar on her own wrist. The scar that torn the soulmark away. “Fuck this destiny shit. Now you can choose your own soulmate.”

Katniss didn’t think she was going to forget what the mark that had spent a year on her wrist looked like, but somehow, it felt like a weight off her aching shoulders. “Yeah, fuck—” She winced as she pushed herself a little further up. “Ow.” Her ribs twinged every time she tried to catch her breath. But she as alive. And she was… in a hospital? “What happened?”

Johanna laughed again. “Welcome to the revolution, brainless.” Gave Katniss a smile that was so genuine it almost looked foreign on her. Almost. She slipped her fingers into Katniss’s. Gave her hand a squeeze. “We’re free.”


End file.
